


like my pulse beneath it

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Love and Other Fairytales [16]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Drowning, M/M, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Patton's about to get FUCKED UP yall, car-based violence, eldritch horror, self injurious stimming, subpar parenting, zalgo text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Can't see the forest for the trees. Can't see the fire for the smoke.





	like my pulse beneath it

**Author's Note:**

> the flowers mentioned are Myosotis laxa or bay forget-me-not, and the title is from Seance For The Boy I Let die, by RJ Walker

When Roman opened his eyes, the world had gone completely blue-black, all cold and pressure and choking.

It took him maybe a bit too long to figure out it was because he was _underwater_.

He flailed, but whatever was constricting him around the ribs only tightened it’s grip, dragging him. Roman fought it, but then he realized that it was pulling him  _up_.

His head was starting to swim, and Roman switched from fighting the grip to kicking upwards, and then they both broke the surface, gasping for air.

Roman turned toward the coughing – Logan still had hold of him around Roman’s chest, and even through his own hacking was dragging Roman to the edge of the water.

Logan pulled them both out of the muck – Roman helped as best he could, through he was starting to think he might have gotten more water in his lungs than he’d first thought – but Logan didn’t loosen his hands in the slightest.

“What-” Roman choked on another cough, the taste of pond scum in the back of his throat gagging him, “What the hell happened?”

Even as he asked, Roman was trying to pinpoint his own memories – The revel. The Serpent King. Crying, talking to Logan and then-

The memories stuttered. Spinning lights. Logan shouting. Something sweet, and then nothing.

“What happened?” repeated Logan, “What  _happened?”_

“What are you, a furby?” said Roman, trying for levity.

From the thunderous expression on Logan’s face, he hadn’t done a good job.

“Would you like the list in alphabetical or chronological order?” said Logan, “Or perhaps in descending order of your determination to thwart my efforts to keep you alive?”

“I- Specs, I’m a bit waterlogged, do you think you could dumb it down?”

“You recited the entire Rent soundtrack,” said Logan, finally releasing Roman only to start ticking off points on his fingers, “Then you spoke backwards for an hour; then you responded to me only in out-of-context Hamlet quotes, and  _then_  only in haiku’s constructed from absolute  _gibberish_ ,”

Logan was getting closer as he spoke, and Roman was becoming equally embarrassed and alarmed.

“If I took my eyes off you for a second you tried to put the closest size-appropriate object in your mouth, including but not limited to; leaves,  _dead_  leaves, twigs, bark you peeled off a tree, a  _chipmunk_  I have  _no idea_  how you even  _caught-”_

Roman thought he should probably stop Logan before he really got into his stride, but Roman was still lagging slightly from his little swim.

“-You jumped out of trees, off of rocks, and  _finally_ , in a display of such suicidal absurdity it is a wonder my  _sky-rocketing blood pressure_  did not give me a  _stroke,_ you jumped into this pond and tried to  _drown yourself,_ ”

Logan was shaking now, and when he finished speaking his hands flew up to his hair, making fists in the strands and pulling furiously.

“Hey, easy,” Roman said, alarmed. He sat up, placing his hands on Logan’s wrists and gently tugging on them until Logan’s hands relaxed.

Logan looked up at him, enraged, and that was when Roman realized Logan was crying.

“You could have  _died_ ,” he choked out.

“I didn’t,” Roman soothed, “I didn’t, I’m fine. Everything’s fine, Logan. You didn’t let me get hurt,”

“I shouldn’t have brought you,” said Logan viciously, “It was spectacularly irresponsible,”

“I would have tried to show up anyway,” said Roman, “And probably gotten myself into way worse trouble,”

“Is that supposed to make me  _feel better_?” said Logan, grabbing Roman by the shirt and just barely shaking him, “Supposed to _comfort_  me that you have such a cavalier attitude toward the value of your own life?”

“I don’t,” protested Roman, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Logan shook his head, scrabbling to wipe his face with both hands.

“Is it okay if I ask what time it is?” said Roman.

“12:06 AM,” said Logan, “You woke up at midnight, because why not cram as many fairy tale cliches into our already absurd lives as possible,”

Roman couldn’t help but snort nervously, and Logan glared at him.

They stood up, Logan insistently shaking off Roman’s attempts to help. Roman reminded himself that Logan was just upset, and the Roman didn’t have be melodramatic and feel like his heart was breaking over something so small.

“We smell like pond scum,” said Logan, uncharacteristically petulant.

Roman snorted again, and Logan still didn’t smile back but he didn’t glare that time either.

“Did you get everything that was  _so_   _important_  from the revel?” said Logan tiredly, “Because I have fulfilled my obligation, and would like to go home and put on something that is not wet and cold,”

“Yeah, I got it,” said Roman automatically. Then he thought Logan’s sentence over again and did a double take.

“What do you mean obliga-?”

But Logan was already picking through the underbrush, gesturing for Roman to follow.

“I do not feel comfortable with the idea of you walking to your home alone through the woods,” said Logan, just a hair faster than he usually spoke, “We will have to figure out an explanation for my parents in the morning as to why you are in my house,”

He glanced behind him at Roman, and Roman saw it, clear as day. Logan knew what Roman was about to ask. And Roman also knew Logan was begging him to let it go.

“It’s not like I haven’t broke into your house before,” he said, offering Logan a hesitant grin.

Logan’s shoulders relaxed, and Roman felt his own mirror them. They could do it later. It had been a  _very_  long day.

Roman was ready for it to be over.

* * *

.

.

W̴̧̌̍̄̊̅̿̓͂̿̇̚͝ḩ̷̨͍̭͉̠̥̮͈̖̬͓͚̙͎́͐̈́͐̌̈́̃̂̚e̸͔̯̠̒̑̈́̉͊̎̊̄̄̓̎̓̕ṙ̶̢̳̥͖̼̦̫͖̜͙͚͉̣̈́͗͗̃͒̕͜͜͠͠e̸̠̹̤̻͑̉̎͋̏͂̅̕͝ ̷̡̞̥̹͔̬͙̌͒̿̎̃͋̋̇̂̃̾́̿i̶̢͍͕̥̮̖͕͑͑͒̉̓̓͆͐͒̓͌̇̋̽̚s̸̪̥̳̍̎͐ ̸̨̛̯̮̤͉̬͙͂̌̽h̵͈̥̱͇̗̩̎͘̚ͅe̶̗͙̙̲͍̟̗͓͓͖̋͂̇͒̈́̇͘͝. S̵̡̩̬̙̰̗̬̱̮̏̑̒͌̉͒̆̔̕͝h̷̪̮̱͕̗̫̟̠̦̬̫̞̊̓̉̏ě̸̺͔̭̭̩̺͎͎̰̞͊̓͂̓ ̵͙̱̹̜̗̥̲̗͙̬̞̀̓̒̑̈́̈́̈́͆̓̕͠ḥ̴̨̧̘̘̰̜̰͓͓͎̈̽̔̆̍̏̇̅̉̎͘̚͘i̶̬̭͚̞̱̞̼̬̺͍̓͑͂̇̒̒̇̀̐͑̕d̸͈̱͙̂͊͗̃̈́̍̃̈͗̇̐ͅ ̸̧̩͚̣̦̮̺̼͔̲̭̯͈͇̟̈́̽͐̇͒̆ḧ̴̢̖͓̘͔̖͚̻́̆̿͊̏̚͜i̷̧̜̻͚̼͔̤̬̻̠̪͇͚̤̎͂͋̔̄̏̉͛̈́͘͘͠ͅm̶͖̘̠̥̘͓̮̞̽.̷͔̠̯̱͎̬̦̫͉͉̋͛̇̇̑͊͌ W̵̯͎͇͐h̶̨̭̞̤͖͙̝͕͈̔͆͂͆̽̽̑̑̏̂̚͜͝e̸̡̞͖͈̙̟̭͚͖̊̉͆̈̽̓̑̓̌͘͜ṛ̴̡̨͉͚̝̗͛̄͋͗̆ͅe̶̞̱̠̱̻̪͓͇̬͙̮͌̀́ ̴̥͎͖̖̥̈́̋̇͗̊̽͆̒͌̚͜i̴̺̗̖̱̝̝͈̞͒͗̂̉̄̏̒͊̓͂͠͝ŝ̵̲̯̫̤̗̜̜̅ ̷̨͈̥̜̭͍͈̪̟̽̄̈͋̈ḧ̷̭͖̤͖̦̫̮̕͝ͅͅĕ̷͕͎͔̤͔͍͈͈̭̓͛͐.̵͎͐͊

.

.

* * *

At some point, Roman had taken Logan’s hand. Logan normally wouldn’t encourage it – he hated feeling like he was…  _baiting_  Roman or Patton, when he knew very well nothing could come of his feelings for them – but considering Roman’s hand was faintly trembling and he still hadn’t quite lost the hunted look in his eyes, Logan couldn’t bring himself to let go.

Roman had also taking to swinging their hands occasionally, which should have been irritating but instead was making the barest hint of laughter want to bubble out of Logan’s throat. He wondered if he might be just a touch hysterical after all the stress.

He had become a little distracted by the sensation of Roman running his thumb back and forth, so it was actually Roman who saw Logan’s house first. When Roman did, he stumbled slightly.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“What-?”

Logan looked up, and his body went cold all over.

The back porch light was on, and he could see more lights inside through the kitchen window.

Logan could also see his  _mother_  through the window, staring at the two of them just inside the edge of the woods with an expression of abject horror.

“Shit” did not even  _begin_  to cover it, in Logan’s opinion.

Mom disappeared from the window. Roman tightened his grip as Logan walked woodenly towards the back door.

She got there first, stepping out on to the porch, pale and nearly shaking.

“ _Logan_ ,” she said, her voice weak, “Where have you been?”

“I-”

Logan didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know  _how_  to say it. Mom’s face hadn’t shifted at all from absolutely terrified, and Logan’s throat was rapidly clogging with his own panic.

“I-” Logan took one shuffling step forward.

… and Mom stepped  _back_.

“Mom-?” he said, and he couldn’t even be embarrassed at how high his voice had gone. Roman squeezed his hand and Logan barely registered it.

Mom was wringing her hands, looking back and forth between Logan and the house. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, something she did to keep herself from biting her nails. She only did it when she was especially anxious.

“I don’t-” she started.

She looked down at him, still panicked, but the corners of her mouth had firmed a little with determination.

“I don’t think you should come inside right now, Logan,”

The lump in Logan’s throat had turned into a lead weight, sliding down to settle in his stomach.

His free hand raised slightly, and Mom glanced at it, a moment of total agony flashing across her face, but then she set her face again, taking a deep breath.

“You can’t come in right now,” she said firmly, “Go- go to Roman’s, or Patton’s, sweetheart. Come back in the morning,”

She turned, moving a little quicker than she usually did, and when she shut the back door behind her Logan’s heart seized.

And then he heard the  _click_  of the lock, and felt like it  _shattered_.

“Logan,” said Roman, achingly gentle.

“She- she locked me out,” said Logan faintly.

“ _Logan,”_ Roman repeated, squeezing Logan’s hand, a grounding anchor in the sudden sea of doubt Logan felt like he’d been set adrift in.

She’d _locked him out._  On the night of the full moon. Locked  _Roman_ , human, out with him, rather than let Logan into the house.

Logan barely registered that Roman was pulling him back into the woods, leading him like a child. It was several minutes before he spoke, and when he did it was completely involuntary.

“She locked me out,” he repeated, barely audible. He felt like a faulty CD, skipping over the same lyrics again and again, stuck.

“It’s okay,” said Roman, and Logan had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t the first time Roman said it, and that Logan was only just now hearing him, “There’s got to be a good explanation,”

“She was afraid of me,” Logan said, voice completely flat, and Roman came to dead stop, whirling on Logan and squeezing his hand so hard it bordered on painful.

“No,” he said firmly.

“You saw her,” said Logan, his voice still devoid of emotion, “You saw her face. She was terrified,”

“Yeah, she was scared,” Roman said, “But that doesn’t mean she’s scared of  _you,_ ”

“What else could she possibly-”

“I don’t  _know_ ,” said Roman helplessly, “But it  _wasn’t you._  It couldn’t be. It isn’t possible,”

Logan stared, still and unconvinced. Roman must have realized how desperate he sounded because he gritted his teeth in fury.

He dropped Logan’s hand, only to bring both of his own up to cup Logan’s face.

“And even if she  _is_ ,” Roman said, vehement, “ _I’m_  not.  _Patton’s_  not,”

“You can’t speak for-”

“Then when we get to his house you can wake him up and  _ask him_ ,” snapped Roman. “We are  _not_  afraid of you. We will  _never_ be afraid of you. How could you even- you fold your socks! You wore a  _tie_  to a  _fairy revel,_ ”

Logan laughed, startled, but he was still shaking his head before Roman had finished; when he spoke his voice cracked, just barely, and Roman swiped one thumb over the swell of Logan’s cheek.

“You don’t know that,” Logan said, “You can’t. You can not possibly know every potential outcome of the future-”

“Try me,” Roman cut him off forcefully.

Roman’s expression flickered, clearly deliberating. He set his jaw, seemingly coming to a decision, and then he leaned down and pressed their mouths together.

It could hardly be called a kiss. Especially considering Logan had  _seen_ Roman kiss people, and it usually involved a significant amount of… saliva. They were barely touching, aside from the hands on Logan’s face and the faintest pressure on his lips.

Roman was perfectly still. Waiting, Logan realized. Less of a kiss; more of a question.

Logan knew what answer  _should_  be.

The moment stretched – and then Roman’s shoulders fell, just a fraction, and he made to move back, his mouth already pulling into an apologetic smile.

Something clenched in Logan’s chest, and he rushed forward.

Their teeth clicked together, a little jarring – Logan was too nervous to do anything but peck Roman, and then he retreated, his ears burning.

It had lasted barely a second, but Roman was looking at him like Logan had plucked the moon from the sky and handed it to him.

“We should not have done that,” Logan blurted immediately. Roman didn’t stop smiling but he did go a little sad around the eyes.

“No, probably not,” he agreed with a short, humorless laugh. “A foolhardy decision, to be sure,”

Logan had said it first, so he really shouldn’t have been so distressed by Roman agreeing with him.

“This is-”

Logan was close enough that the sudden shift in Roman’s expression was blatantly obvious and incredibly alarming. His pupils dilated and he went tense as a strung bow. In one fluid motion, he removed his hands from Logan’s jaw, stooped to pick up a stone, and pitched it into the black night.

Logan was completely baffled for the half-second before an indignant squawk came from the direction Roman had thrown it.

“You  _overgrown_  rat with  _wings_ , did you  _follow me?_ ”

The sound of feathers rustling indignantly was followed by the sight of Jax, swooping out of the darkness onto a closer tree branch and cocking his head. He left his wings half extended, and Logan couldn’t help but take a step back. Jax was  _enormous,_ huge and silky black and his head a spot of blood red in the total darkness. Logan found Jax intimidating enough in the daytime – right now he was just plain terrifying.

Roman didn’t seem cowed in the slightest. He bent again and grabbed another rock, flinging it furiously.

Logan’s eyes had followed Roman automatically; when he looked down, he startled again.

Roman hadn’t seemed to notice, but Logan certainly did – because the area around them was absolutely overrun with tiny blue forget-me-nots.

Logan’s ears were burning, and he hoped desperately that it was too dark for Roman to distinguish the color on the ground from the surrounding forest debris. The last thing he needed was for Roman to get invested in the…  _flower issue._ Thomas was bad enough.

Jax let out a low hiss that made all the hair on Logan’s neck stand up. Roman bent to pick up yet another projectile, but Jax beat his wings, the wind ruffling Logan and Roman’s clothes, and took off into the night.

“Giant foul-tempered pigeon- vermin-”

Roman was muttering darkly and Logan could barely make out the words through Roman’s petulant sneer.

Roman shook himself, furious. He gave Logan a brittle smile and held out his hand.

“Patton’s, right?”

Logan briefly glanced in the direction Jax had flown, hesitated, and then slowly nodded.

“Patton’s,” he agreed.

Roman left the hand out, an offering.

Logan wavered.

“Wouldn’t want to get separated,” said Roman lightly.

Logan bit the inside of his cheek.

“You’re incorrigible,” he muttered, taking the offered hand and letting Roman lead him through the woods.

* * *

.

 

W̵̯͎͇͐h̶̨̭̞̤͖͙̝͕͈̔͆͂͆̽̽̑̑̏̂̚͜͝e̸̡̞͖͈̙̟̭͚͖̊̉͆̈̽̓̑̓̌͘͜ṛ̴̡̨͉͚̝̗͛̄͋͗̆ͅe̶̞̱̠̱̻̪͓͇̬͙̮͌̀́ ̴̥͎͖̖̥̈́̋̇͗̊̽͆̒͌̚͜i̴̺̗̖̱̝̝͈̞͒͗̂̉̄̏̒͊̓͂͠͝ŝ̵̲̯̫̤̗̜̜̅ ̷̨͈̥̜̭͍͈̪̟̽̄̈͋̈ḧ̷̭͖̤͖̦̫̮̕͝ͅͅĕ̷͕͎͔̤͔͍͈͈̭̓͛͐.̵͎͐͊ W̶͇͇̻̫̳̾͐̆͑̉͆͝h̴̯̩̹̪̳͇̺͉̱̑͒̒̇͛̈e̸̢̛̠͖̺̻̙̘̫͖͎͛r̷̛̛̛̟͇̋̌̃̒̄́̆̾͊͒̚͝e̴̛̹̫̙̬̜͕̮̿̃̓̍ͅ ̵̧͎̹͍̪̽͌̋̈̐̔͑͘͝a̷͉͋̇͂͊̽̊͑̓̃̆̓̓̌̚r̶̛͍̖̳̺̰͒̆͒̒̇̌́͝ę̶̹̟̱͔̟̙͚̹̩̩̜͕̹̓̈́̓̂̌̈́͂͠ ̵̡̺̤̼͎̻̬͇̲̹͈̇̽̿́̄͠ÿ̸̻̝̝̳̯̲̔͗̔͠o̵̢̧̩͎̥͙͖̳̫̖͍̮͐͛̈̆̽̓͗̑̍͗͒͋̈́u̶͉͎̩͍̦̟͈̫͖͙̰̇̇̇̓ ̴̹̜̙͚͉̭̳̓̇ḩ̶̛̺̬̀̈́̓̎͆͑͠i̷̧̧̳̹̙̻̞̝̘̦͇͑̔͗͂ḋ̶̯̬̲̆̀̀i̸̡͓̘̽̌́̂̈́ņ̵̳̩͕̗̹̞̌̍͊̈̆͆ǵ̸͚͙̮̰̮͒̑̂͂̽̀͘͝ ̵͚̘͌̏h̷̦̰̽̆̅̑̿i̶̳̳̟̫͒̀̓͘͠͠m̵̯̺̬̑̚.̸̢̩̜̭̺͓͇̦͔̕ W̵̯͎͇͐h̶̨̭̞̤͖͙̝͕͈̔͆͂͆̽̽̑̑̏̂̚͜͝e̸̡̞͖͈̙̟̭͚͖̊̉͆̈̽̓̑̓̌͘͜ṛ̴̡̨͉͚̝̗͛̄͋͗̆ͅe̶̞̱̠̱̻̪͓͇̬͙̮͌̀́ ̴̥͎͖̖̥̈́̋̇͗̊̽͆̒͌̚͜i̴̺̗̖̱̝̝͈̞͒͗̂̉̄̏̒͊̓͂͠͝ŝ̵̲̯̫̤̗̜̜̅ ̷̨͈̥̜̭͍͈̪̟̽̄̈͋̈ḧ̷̭͖̤͖̦̫̮̕͝ͅͅĕ̷͕͎͔̤͔͍͈͈̭̓͛͐.̵͎͐͊

.

.

* * *

Patton and the fairy prince had lapsed into silence. It was mostly Patton’s fault, which made him feel a little silly. The fairy prince hadn’t cried as he’d told the story, but Patton had – and he’d ended up wrapping the fairy prince in his arms and dripping tears into the other boys hair.

And though the prince hadn’t cried, he also hadn’t moved at all since then.

They probably looked a little ridiculous, seeing as the fairy prince had nearly a foot of height on Patton, but they were alone in the barn besides the goats underneath them, so really, who was going to call them on it?

Patton was actually almost falling asleep. He wasn’t sure how late he was but his eyes were getting steadily heavier and heavier.

He startled out of his half doze when the fairy prince shifted, a little suddenly. He pulled away from Patton and leaned over, setting his hand on the floor and letting one of the little clearing spiders climb onto his knuckles. The fairy prince’s eyes widened in surprise.

He glanced at Patton, hesitant.

“They’re coming to us,” he said carefully, “Well- coming to you, anyway. Roman and Logan,”

Patton couldn’t help but sit up, his desperate hope probably painted all over his face.

“She says they’re almost here,”

Patton stood, nearly vibrating with nerves. He blinked and then the prince was standing too and Patton had a flash of dizziness. The prince didn’t even seem to notice how fast he could move, or how disorienting it was to see it.

Patton moved towards the ladder. When he turned, making to climb down, the prince hadn’t; he was staring over at where his old clothes were folded.

“Are- don’t you want to come?” said Patton.

“What? I- yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” said the prince. But instead of moving towards Patton, he went over and grabbed the silver cloak he’d been wearing before he’d changed.

Patton climbed down the ladder and the prince followed. Patton wondered if he ought to bring it up, but the prince hadn’t seemed irritated by any of Patton’s questions so far.

“Is the cloak important?”

The prince shrugged, brow furrowed.

“I don’t know,” he said, “But it’s the only thing I woke up with that I didn’t go to sleep in. Gotta have  _some_  kind of significance,”

Patton nodded in agreement.

The prince followed Patton out of the barn, and when Patton halted in alarm the prince’s hands flew up like he intended to place them on Patton’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” said the prince.

“My- my parent’s car is gone,” said Patton, bewildered, “I guess I… didn’t hear them leave. But it’s- what time is it even? Why would they have…?”

Patton trailed off, a little disquieted. They hadn’t known he was out here, which meant they meant to leave him alone in the house, and go out, on the night of the full moon. Which was some  _super_  spooky behavior.

There was too much,  _too much,_ too many things happening. Patton couldn’t worry about all of them at once.

Shaking himself slightly, he turned away.

They both made their way around to the side, facing the forest. Patton couldn’t help but shuffle anxiously, glancing up at the full moon overhead and trying not to shudder.

Patton picked up the previous conversation, not wanting to dwell on what reason his parents possibly could have had for leaving.

“Were there any other differences? From when you went to sleep and when you woke up?” he asked.

The prince seemed to sense Patton’s nerves. He reached for Patton’s hand, hesitated for a moment, and then laced their fingers together; Patton’s heart started racing for an entirely different reason.

“The casket itself,” the prince replied, “And one of my knives is missing,”

“…One of? How many do you have?” laughed Patton.

The prince didn’t answer, just smiled in a way that was a significantly less gentle than he’d been so far. Patton was torn between finding it frightening or finding it-

Well, uh. Whatever the opposite of frightening was.

Patton didn’t really what kind of “almost” the prince had meant by “almost here” - they should maybe sit to wait for Roman and Logan. But Patton couldn’t seem to relax quite enough to flop down, though whether it was the moon or the possible confrontation he wasn’t sure.

The prince’s hand went rigid in Patton’s, and Patton stood up straight. He squinted into the darkened woods, trying to see anything through the trunks and branches.

He didn’t, but the air did get rather…  _prickly_ , and Patton felt the distinct sensation of being watched. The prince’s hand was squeezing his now, just this side of uncomfortable.

“I can see you,” said the prince, barely raising his voice but somehow still carrying the sound crystal clear into the air. His voice was low and level, but Patton could feel tension radiating off of him. “No need to lurk in the shadows like a stalker,”

A single short note of laughter came from the dark of the trees, and Patton recognized it instantly as Roman, the second before both he and Logan came into view.

Patton felt like something should happen. A light, or a spark, or… _something_ , something big, because it  _felt_  big, felt like his chest was so full of feelings that his rib cage might burst open. But there was nothing, just a painfully awkward silence broken only by the singing of the night insects and what sounded like one particularly persistent owl.

“… hey, Pat,” Roman finally said, obviously trying to keep his voice light and falling spectacularly flat. “You’re up late,”

He turned to the prince and offered him a tense smile.

“And hello to you too,” he said with a wooden smile, “You seem a little bit friendlier today,”

“Patton’s not nearly as annoying as you,” said the prince, and Roman’s mouth dropped open, indignant “And he’s not spent the night in my brother’s court, so he’s definitely doing better than you as far as my trust goes,”

Roman’s offense slipped off his face entirely, his skin draining of color. Logan, who still hadn’t spoken or stopped staring intently at the fairy prince, went rigid as a board next to him.

Patton had a feeling it would be  _very easy_  for the situation to spin totally out of control at this point, and he blurted out the first question that came to his mind in an effort to stave off any kind of explosion.

“Are you hurt?” he said.

“No, are you?” said Logan, brisk and abrupt and  _very hostile_ , still staring at the fairy prince, and apparently Patton had managed to, somehow, make the situation worse.

Not great.

“Of course not,” soothed Patton.

“The prince is our  _friend_ , remember?” he said, repeating the words he’d said when they found the shattered casket. It felt like it had been years ago rather than just a few days.

“No, he-” Logan started.

And then his voice cracked and cut off.

All three heads swiveled towards him, baffled. Logan seemed just as surprised as the rest of them, but  _his_  expression was rapidly going from shocked to absolutely mortified.

“I…,” he started, trailing off.

It wasn’t often Logan was at a loss for words. Patton could feel his face pulling up into a grin.

He turned, and the fairy prince was clearly trying to stay stern and failing miserable. Setting his shoulders, Patton squeezed the prince’s hand and started walking resolutely forward.

The prince pulled back slightly, but after token resistance he still fell in step. And considering Patton knew very well he wouldn’t be able to take the prince  _anywhere_  he really didn’t want to go, he felt fairly comfortable ignoring said resistance.

When they reached the other two, Patton gave them his best, gentlest smile.

“I know everybody’s upset,” he said softly, but firmly. “And we all really need to- we  _have to_  talk about it,”

Three faces were staring at him, in various shades of curious and hopeful and downright petrified.

“But honestly,” Patton said, the slightest shake entering his voice and his eyes starting to feel a little bit wet, “I really- I really just think we should hug right now,”

There was a beat of silence as everyone processed what he said. Patton stood perfectly still, holding his breath.

“… Yeah,” said Roman thickly, “That’s probably a good start,”

He opened his arms in the exact same gesture he’d given Patton for years and Patton didn’t hesitate for a second before burrowing into Roman’s chest. The prince hadn’t moved with him, so Patton’s arm was extended a little awkwardly behind him, but Patton didn’t let go.

“This- this is absurd,” said Logan faintly.

“Blah, blah, something about oxytocin, just  _get in here_ ,” said Roman, voice still distinctly wobbly.

Logan wavered for another second before sighing and shuffling forward, wrapping both arms around the two of them and tucking his head into Roman’s neck.

Patton twisted his head around, his cheek resting on Roman’s chest and looking back at the fairy prince. He hadn’t let go of Patton’s hand, but his face was completely indecipherable.

“C’mon,” said Patton, tugging gently. “Snuggle time, kiddo,”

The joke had the desired effect. The prince’s eyes went fond; he squeezed Patton’s hand and came in close, folding their hands up so they laid together on Roman’s chest and placing his other hand tentatively on Logan’s shoulder.

He laid his forehead against Roman’s, so the two tallest of them made a sort of shelter over Logan and Patton. Patton felt warm and safe and nearly deliriously happy.

“Virgil,” said the fairy prince, “My name is Virgil,”

Patton could feel Logan and Roman turn their heads toward the fairy prince in astonishment, but Patton didn’t look up himself, only hid a blinding grin. The prince – Virgil – actually cracked a smile.

“I know all of yours,” he said, serene and maybe a little pointed, “Seemed fair,”

They went quiet – it seemed like the forest did too, the insects and the night birds falling into a hush, like even they were afraid of breaking the moment. Patton wasn’t sure how long they stood – he was starting to get uncomfortably warm, despite the fact that both Logan and Virgil ran significantly cooler than Roman or Patton, but it was Logan who moved away first.

“While that was pleasant,” he said, “It was quite inadvisable to do it out in the open. We should move indoors,”

Patton slipped out of Roman’s grip at the same time Virgil dropped Patton’s hand. Patton pulled his collar a little, still flushed.

“My parents probably locked the door,” he said apologetically, “I hope the barns okay,”

“We could drive to my house, if you want to risk it,” offered Roman.

“Logan’s is closer,” said Patton. His voice was a little breathless, but nobody seemed to notice. Why was it so  _hot,_  he thought, baffled.

Logan flinched, and for a second he looked absolutely heartbroken. Patton felt a short prickle of indignation on his behalf.

“My mother has forbidden me from our home for the night,” said Logan after schooling his expression back into some semblance of calm. The prickle sparked into a brief flare of rage before blinking out like flash paper.

Roman spoke, and Patton realized with a sort of distant frustration that Roman’s lips weren’t lining up with the words.

_Where is he?_

“Where’s who?” asked Patton, confused. He pulled his collar again.

They all three turned to look at him, confused. Except Logan, who’s face drained of color all at once.

“No-  _shit,_  Patton,” said Logan, his voice quietly horrified, “We have to get out of here,”

“What, why?” said Patton, strangely irritated.

“Patton, I don’t have time to explain this we need to go  _right now,”_

Logan was reaching for him, and Patton felt another twist of annoyance ripple through him, like wringing out a towel. His skin itched with the heat, and Patton scratched at it absently.

_Where is he?_

“Where is  _who_ , what are you talking about?” Patton snapped, and then he saw some kind of understanding dawn on Roman’s face.

Roman swore, vehement, jamming his hands into his pockets and digging around for something.

“What’s going on?” said Virgil, looking warily between Patton and the horrified expressions of the other two. Patton’s chest throbbed with another wave of frustration, why would nobody  _answer him_ -

“Where is he?” Patton demanded, they weren’t listening, nobody was listening, why couldn’t anybody answer him?

Roman had something in his hand, and he took hurried steps toward Patton. Roman grabbed him by the wrist, reaching his other hand towards Patton’s head. Patton felt a snarl bubble up in his throat before he even noticed.

“ _Stop fucking touching me,_ ”

Both Roman’s hands careened away like hooked fish. His face morphed from panic to downright terror, and he shoved whatever he was holding into Logan’s hand, babbling something too quick and too low for Patton to understand.

They must know, they must know where h̬̙̄̂̌͂ͅe̛̳̦̿̂̂̏̓̐ is and they’re hiding him-

“ _Where is he!”_ he screamed, and in some deep, sleepy part of him he notice there was something strange about his voice, but he could barely hear it anyway over the roaring in his ears. His skin was still on f͓͎̗̤̃̃̅ĩ̱͈̻̾͐͊̿̚r̴̾ě͔͚̻̿ , itchy and crawling and his nails scraped against the skin leaving trails of fire behind them he was so  _angry,_ f̥̻͙̝̥̯͚̌͑̇̏ͬͣuͪ͘ȓ͔͚̳͔͉̿ͅͅi̡̭̲̰̒o̦͈̅̎́ǔ̷̘͕̲̽s, she was hiding him, where was he, she h̵̩̠͉̘͚̗i͚͓̦̫̐̔͂̔ͧͪd̛̰̜͈͎̪̓̇̋͂ ̶̈́ͧ̐̌̊ͩ̚ȟ̺̐ͭ̓̓ͅi̵̙͔ͬ͒͑m̺͙̗̪̖̬͋̆̎́ͫ̓ͯ -

Someone grabbed him, and Patton lunged, his vision blotting with b̙̫͕̼͖̎ͦͪ̀͟ḻ͙̆a̸̘̹̺̲̰̭͐̊c̗͓͈ͩk̴̫̫̂̊ͨͩ and red and rage, f̣̄ͯ̕r̸̰ͤê̷̟̣̝̼̠n̷̮ͣͭ̏ͨ̀̋̔z̼̯͈̪̹̫̠ͣ͒̊̊̓ỵ̹̺̤͉ͬ̉ͣ̅̆̍ͅ and fire and  _w̵ͥͦ̅ͬ͋h̪̯̪͋̃͌͊͘ȇͭ̑̎͗͘r̹̦̮̠̻̤e̹̙̿̊̄̐ ̠͉̩͈̣iͩ̉̚s͎̣̳͚͍̠̱ͪ͊ͯ̓ ̱̰̐h̰̰̺͊̽̋̅ͯͤ̋eͯ̀̐̾ͮ͌͛͞_ _, where is he, she_ _ **h͙̺͕̿ͪ̏̀i̳͇̼̮̋̇̾̆́dͨͮͩ̈̆̓**_ _ **him where IS HE**_

_**Ẃ̹͕̘̞̹̮͕̦ͪ̊̑ͣ͌͘H̨̟̥͙͇͈̑̍ͬ̆̋̃̾͠E̶̖̬̗̩̼͗̾̓̊ͪ̂̂̽̇̕͞Ŗ̧͓͙̯̹̠̝̬̍̊ͥͨͨ̿E̺͎͔͇͉̟ͯͭ̓̿̾ͅ ̷̷̘̘͍̬̙̼̦̩̞ͯͭ̑͝  
** _

_**I̧̜͔͙͚͕͇̝̹ͤ̈́ͤ͌̐͟Ṡ̜͈͎͍̹̹̝͉͎͂ͣͦ͌ ̈̽̓̆͊̽̉ͧ͏̶̦  
** _

_**H̠̪̫͇̓̃ͪͣ̽̏͢E̛̺̱̳͉͇̯̫̠̻ͯͫ͑̌ͩ̆̚** _

* * *

Patton was definitely acting weird – Virgil wasn’t an idiot.

But as weird as Patton was acting, when Virgil reached out to grab him, thinking maybe he could hold him still long enough for Patton to calm down – or at least long enough to ask what was wrong – Virgil definitely wasn’t expecting him to shriek like the dead before sinking his blunt teeth into Virgil’s arm.

Virgil frowned, shaking Patton a little. Patton clamped down harder, and while it didn’t really hurt, it wasn’t exactly comfortable.

Logan was trying to get in close enough to… do  _something,_  Virgil wasn’t sure what, Logan had some kind of object in his hand – but Patton’s limbs were flailing. Virgil could barely keep him still.

“What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, taking in both Roman and Logan’s ashen faces. Not good, not good,  _not good_.

“The Serpent King’s creature, it’s- I don’t know, it does this, it’s close by and we have to  _get out of here,_ ”

“Pretty sure it’s a little late for that!” said Roman, staring towards the woods, horrified.

It seemed like a wave of gray was slowly seeping its way across the grass, like spilled paint. As it got closer, Virgil realized it  _was_  the grass – dying, shriveling into dry and blighted detritus. The wave came with a smell, something burning – something  _living_  burning, all singed hair and charring flesh. Virgil’s stomach clenched with nausea.

Roman booked it, heading for the barn door. Virgil took a moment to wonder if he honestly thought hiding in a barn was going to stop… whatever the hell this was.

Patton’s teeth relinquished their hold on Virgil, but only so he could throw his head back and let out a hair-raising screech. He thrashed in Virgil’s grip; one of Patton’s hands, curled into claws, slashed at Logan’s wrist, and whatever Logan was holding went careening away, disappearing into the darkness.

Roman returned, carrying what looked like some kind of garden tool. Virgil thought that now was probably not a good time for him to find Roman endearingly dense.

He didn’t have time to call Roman on it before he saw something just inside the shadows of the trees  _shift_.

And it was a shift, not a movement – like something out of sync with the space around it. It came closer, and Virgil could hear it, scraping and metallic yet whisper soft.

 

_**Ẉ̪̯̀̇̈͘͢h̵̰̗̮̀̐̓ͨͮ̐ͭ́e̵̢̞̘̲̱̰̓̈́̃r̉ͣ̅ͤͫ̇͑̉҉̥̰̺̲̩̘̙̪͠ͅȩ̭͚̓̂̅̆̆̌ͅ ̧͕̠̰̯̪̙̫̂ͯ̆̂̓̓̂ͣ͞ͅi̬͙̱͔̘̜̺̋ͥ͋̾ͣ̽ͪͭ͢͠͝ṣ̵͕̌ͪ͌̋ͫ̐͐ ̵͇͍̘̙̘̬̗͔̓̃̂̏̿ͮ̚͘͜h͉̪̯̔ͪ̄͗ͪ̐͞ę̛͕͍̬͍̖͛̾͒̒ͣ͐ͯͤ͟** _ ****_**Ẉ̪̯̀̇̈͘͢h̵̰̗̮̀̐̓ͨͮ̐ͭ́e̵̢̞̘̲̱̰̓̈́̃r̉ͣ̅ͤͫ̇͑̉҉̥̰̺̲̩̘̙̪͠ͅȩ̭͚̓̂̅̆̆̌ͅ ̧͕̠̰̯̪̙̫̂ͯ̆̂̓̓̂ͣ͞ͅi̬͙̱͔̘̜̺̋ͥ͋̾ͣ̽ͪͭ͢͠͝ṣ̵͕̌ͪ͌̋ͫ̐͐ ̵͇͍̘̙̘̬̗͔̓̃̂̏̿ͮ̚͘͜h͉̪̯̔ͪ̄͗ͪ̐͞ę̛͕͍̬͍̖͛̾͒̒ͣ͐ͯͤ͟** _

 

He felt like someone was nailing his head to a wall. Logan also looked distinctly green, and Roman was shaking, one hand holding the garden tool like he really was going to fight the thing off, and the other pulling desperately at Patton, trying to help Virgil pull him back.

Patton wailed again, and this time the creature answered, a distorted echo.

 

_**Wͦ̅͝҉̨̗̘̳͚̪hͤ̾̊̃̃͡҉͉̜̜̭e̝̯̰ͥ̍̋̓͢r̘͉̼͔͖͋ͧ̈́͐̀͜ͅe̞͉͕ͣ́̅ͥ̃̽̚͡ ̍̂ͭ͂ͣ͝҉͚̼̦ͅͅi̾́͆̇҉͍̝̝̹̙̱̺̮s̵̲̫̗ͣ̔̔̈́ͭͬͭ ̵̶̺ͬ̃̇h̸̫̱̩͍͖̖̠ͥͯͥ͂̍̂͘ȩ̫̖̺̥͙̟̜̬͉̓̂ͫ̏͊ͦ͋ͦ.̸̡̘̳̘̙̻ͯ͛ ̘̌ͨŚ̺̼̙͇̩͓ͩ̿̆ͫͯ̃̃̑ḧ̴̸͉̪̙́͆ͫ̽̂̈́͑e̗̥̥͉ͮ̃ͭ ̳̱̲ͦ͐̉̓̾̍̀ḩ̫͙̙̲̳̫͕̀ͥ̅͒̓ͣ̃͟i̵̢͓̩͇ͦ̀͂̃ͯd̶̟̺͐͌̄͛ͥ͞ ̮̭̥̟̫̦̘̉ͪ̍͂̾ͭh̹̖͎̠̯͍̑̽̿̂ͪ̔̉͘i̺̥̅̆ͥm̶̷͉͓ͫ͛̉.͆ͭ̈ͥ̑́͏̳̘͇̩̥͜ ̶̵͖͕͇̃͐̂ͩͭ͆͋͝H̫̟͖͗͗̾ͧ̄i̸̶͇͕̥͓͉͕̬̫̔̊̽ͮ͒d̙̤̰̟͎͌͑̔̈́ ͍͙̅ͣͦh̴͍̘͉̘̫̖̱̔͒̎̿͢i̴̧̮͇̥̪̣̬͚̭͆ͨ̄ͣ̅͊̉͊m̲̯͔̝̞̘͓͉̂ͤ͗̕ ̰̬̱̺̼̟̼͗̔ͪa̹̗̭̻̦̠͐̔̓ͥ́̂̈̎͢w͇͈͈̞̠͍͇̲ͮͨ̀͌͐̓̚͢a̴̮͚̮͇͔̳͙͌̇̅̿̌͒ͬͤ͠y̗̗̼̦͚̎ͫ̈́ .** _

__

Virgil tried to understand what he was looking at as the creature came into focus, out of the trees. He couldn’t see it as a whole, only impressions, pieces. A flash of mottled scales, a glint of menacing, razor-sharp teeth; ragged skin stretched over exposed and pockmarked bone, flecks of moldy-black on pallid and ashen white. Virgil felt his hands loosen as his head spun and he slammed his eyes shut, redoubling his grip on Patton.

Virgil was walking backwards, unable to look at the thing directly but unwilling to take his eyes off of it completely. He glanced between Patton and the other two. Maybe- maybe they could take Patton. Virgil was weakened, for sure, but he certainly had a better chance than Roman and his glorified stick, and Patton couldn’t give Logan an order and escape. He could slow it down.

 

_**W͍̗̞̟͋ͯ́ͮ͗ͣH̷̖͎̥̝̻ͪ̇ͤ̔̒͌͊̕͘E̎ͦͫ̎ͭ̉̿͏̣͈͖̲̥͚̗̙͎Ṟ̷̢̑̏̋̎̓̓͟E̡̊ͩ̔̔͑ͤ̽͂͝͝ͅ ̴̝͔͎̝͙̱͈̓ͯ̊I͓̜͕̓̓ͤͧ̄̌̿̚͞Ş̣̭͉̌ ̘̜̉ͨ͠H͔̲͇̭̠͗ͅE̦̓̔̅ͭ̎͠.̠̱͈̣͖͎̹ͬͦ̋͟ ͉͓̳͓͓̰̭͍͌̓̓͢G̨͇̭̝̭̮̘͉̦͓̒̎̾̇͡I̺ͪ͐V̻̤̰͉̗̘̪ͣͮͩ͗̆̆ͬ͠Ę̳͎̺̜̭̖͂̓ͣ́ͤ͛͒͒̌ ̀ͥ҉̫̱͇̻͝Ḩ͔̻̼̳̤͎͔̗͚̑͊͐I̷̱̦̒̓M͈̬̜͌̌́̾͋̐̕͡ ̷̘̘̙̼̩̥̯̦͛̔͋̌͝B̳͚̺͖͌͗A͓̥̩̟̬ͧ͆̈́͡C͔̻̈́̏ͧ̍̕K̤̹͍̗̱͍̗̽͂̐͋̿ͮ̋͞** _

 

This time the scream was so loud and so  _present_  it was like it physically slammed into Virgil, startling him enough that he dropped Patton. Patton didn’t make it far, as Logan – already touching him – moved in quickly and seized him around the ribs. Patton’s hands, clenched into fists, beat furiously at Logan’s back.

Another wordless hiss, lower this time, came from the creatures direction, except it wasn’t distorted, and came from slightly- higher?

Virgil looked up, and for a moment the utterly nonsensical thought of  _Ritter?_  Fluttered across the front of his mind.

But that was stupid, because Ritter was a  _dog,_ obviously. A  _dead_ dog. He certainly wasn’t a  _buzzard_.

The bird was swooping, talons extended, clawing at the creature. Virgil couldn’t tell if it was doing any damage, but it was definitely doing a decent job of distraction.

There was yet another ear-splitting noise, this time from behind them, and Virgil didn’t have time to look back before Roman swore and dragged them all to the side.

There was a rush of air, and Virgil blinked as one of those- truck, it was a  _truck,_ and he’d barely processed the thought before it slammed into the creature with a bone-shuddering crash.

Roman hadn’t stopped swearing, and Virgil wasn’t even sure if he was pausing to breath. The monster seemed temporarily stunned, which was good for whoever was driving, because they seemed to be having some trouble climbing out.

“ _What the hell are you doing!”_ screamed Roman.

“ _I’m a BIT BUSY,”_ the old woman howled back, furious. A small dark shape darted around her ankles, and Virgil thought again of Ritter and wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

The woman grabbed something from the truck just as the monster began to move again, and she slammed it into the ground in front of the creature.

It was a bottle, Virgil realized, full of some kind of liquid – where it splashed onto the monster it seemed to almost melt, sizzling like acid. It thrashed, the air rippling around it.

“ _Back_!” shouted the woman, “Get  _back_ , you foul-”

She threw another, and this time the monster keened, drawn out and agonized. Collapsing on the ground, barely held up by Logan, Patton made an almost identical noise, which was nearly drown out by Logan’s speaking to him, desperately trying to soothe him. Patton’s head was tilted back, eyes sightless, staring at the sky and still clawing at Logan’s arms around him.

He was crying.

A third shattering sound drew Virgil’s eyes back up, and then the monster recoiled, drawing in on itself and twisting like a spinning maple seed. Finally, with a snap that was the complete antithesis of the way it had oozed towards them, it retreated back into the woods and took it’s burning-body smell with it.

The second it was gone, Patton went boneless, and Roman launched himself forward, absolutely enraged.

“You  _bat-shit_   _crazy_  hag, _what the hell were you thinking?_ ”

The woman scowled, retrieving a cane and slowly shuffling across the lawn towards them.

“Yer holdin’ a  _garden hoe_ ,” she spat, “And yer  _welcome,_ ”

The dark shape Virgil had seen before – he recognized it now as a small tortoiseshell cat – darted from around her legs and made a beeline for Patton, sniffing his face and pawing gently at his cheek.

“Dizzy, no,” said Logan, his voice thick. Dizzy ignored him.

Roman reached for the cat, who hissed and scratched his hand. Roman yelped, and then she went right back to sniffing at Patton.

“C’mon,” said the woman, “Get him in the truck. We need to get back,”

“How did you even know we were  _here_?” demanded Roman.

She froze, staring at Roman, a little incredulous.

“…Have you been to sleep?” she said, baffled.

Roman’s face drained of color entirely.

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Just  _get in the truck_ ,” she said, exhausted.

“What was that thing?” said Virgil, ignoring her.

“Don’t,” she replied shortly.

“You know,” he said, “You knew how to fight it, Logan doesn’t, and he’s the only one of us who knows anything about it.  _What is it?_ ”

“Roman, we need to  _go_ ,” she snapped, ignoring Virgil, “Get all of ‘em in the truck or I swear-”

“ _ **Answer me!**_ ”

“ _God damn it, Virgil, just get in the fuckin’ car!_ ”

Virgil felt like he’d been slapped.

The voices of the night animals still hadn’t returned, so the only sound in the dead silence was their breath – four breaths, because Virgil had stopped breathing completely.

“How do you know my name?” he demanded, heedless of the way his voice was shaking.

She stared back, fury written all over her features.

“Not a damn one of y’all makes anythin’ easy,” she said darkly. “How do ya think? Greta told me,”

“How do you-”

“My grandmother,” she cut him off. “My mother’s name was Gertrude,”

“ _Trudi?”_

“ _Yes,”_  she said, vehement, “Now for the love of  _Christ,_ will ya  _get in the truck,_ ”

“And the monster?” said Logan, the first thing he’d spoken to her since she’d arrived.

She actually released her cane to throw her hands up.

“I will explain  _everythin_ ’ about Greta back at the house, but the damn bottles are  _not_  a permanent solution, so if ya could  _kindly_ -”

“He didn’t ask about Greta, he asked about the monster,” said Virgil.

She cut herself off. She looked a little panicked, and Virgil realized she’d said something she hadn’t meant to. Cold dread settled in his stomach.

“What does the monster have to do with Greta?” he demanded.

The old woman slumped, shaking her head sadly.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “I’m tryin. I don’t know what ya want from me,”

“ _ **That’s not an answer,**_ ” said Virgil, his blood roaring in his ears.

She closed her eyes, like she couldn’t even bear to look at him.

“Because,” she said wearily.

“The monster  _is_  Greta,”

**Author's Note:**

> I might possibly be vibrating with anxiety over this chapter so let me know if i need to change my name and move to a new country


End file.
